Bloodstone
by Shiraume
Summary: Seigaku clan has a new prince in town. Hyoutei clan is vaguely irritated, Order of Shitenhouji is mildly concerned, and Order of Rikkai is hell-bent on putting Seigaku in its place. Preferably as a pile of dust. For its part, Order of St. Rudolph would rather err on the side of caution. After all, it's not every day a new pureblood vampire joins a clan. NEW: NOTES & CH 2 POSTED.
1. Chapter 1

_**Bloodstone**_

by _Shiraume_

[Conceived 5/15/2013 :: Finished 12/31/2013]

Modern supernatural/vampire/hunter AU. M/R rating for adult content. Drama, romance, and way too much politics and social issues for a vampire/hunter AU. Born May 15, 2013, finished December 31, 2013, the story is at 57K words at this time (subject to revision). Chapter lengths and pace will vary, as the entire work was written undivided.

_**Bloodstone:**_ a greenish variety of chalcedony with small bloodlike spots of red jasper scattered through it. Also called _heliotrope_.

* * *

[4/14/2014 - Happy Birthday, Shiraishi!]

_**Chapter 1**_

"Hey. Yanagi said you could use some showing around."

Warm voice, slight accent. Light ash-brown hair, friendly brown eyes. Akaya's eyes were automatically drawn to the brassard on the other's right arm: spring green and yellow, with nested diamonds.

Shitenhouji. Finally his memory dredged up a name to go with the face. "Captain Shiraishi of Shitenhouji. Right?"

"Pin-pon." Bandage-wrapped hand rose to tap his left temple with index finger. "Kirihara-kun from Order of Rikkai, yeah? Yukimura spoke of you often."

"Yanagi-senpai told you to show me around?" Seriously, did his seniors find him that untrustworthy? He'd only gotten lost twice. Besides, while Sky Dome was impressively tall, rising nearly 300 feet from its base, it was basically a narrow tower with all staircases leading to the top. As long as he kept following the stairs, eventually he would make it to the meeting place. Or so Niou said.

"Yeah. The staircases here get a little tricky. You have to remember which ones go up and which ones circle down."

"Some of them circle down?" Somehow Niou had neglected to mention that. Akaya would have bet anything that was deliberate. Stupid Niou and his stupid pranks.

Shiraishi chuckled. "Yeah. Let me show you around a bit. Meeting won't start until mid-day, anyway. 'Sides, you should walk around. Get used to the place. The view's pretty spectacular. Once you get used to being a thousand feet up in the air perched right over a deep canyon, anyway."

"Why did they build it out here in the middle of nowhere? And up so high?"

Shiraishi shrugged. "For security. There's nothing around here to cast shadows over this building. Makes everything nice and sunny. Traditionally, everyone would arrive at sunrise on a really sunny day, then leave before sunset. 'Course it's not that simple anymore, nowadays. Plus it's tough to get here."

"No kidding. You need a goddamn chopper to even get out here." Recalling he was talking to the field commander of Shitenhouji, Akaya winced and tried again. "I mean. I had to ride in on a helicopter."

Shiraishi laughed. "Hey, don't worry about it. We don't stand on much ceremony at Shitenhouji. Anyway, they must love you over at Rikkai. You're probably the youngest member ever to join the Head Council."

"But I'm not here to participate in the meeting," Akaya corrected hastily. "I'm supposed to guard the perimeter and Yukimura-san said just that will be a good learning experience."

"Nah, Sanada and Yukimura have been planning for this in forever. They'd had their eyes on you way before you finished your training." Shiraishi rotated his head absently, cricking his neck. "Kintarou's here, too, but he's stuck at the base with actual guard duty. You're here so you can sit in during the meeting."

Well. If that was the case. "So is it true what they say, about Seigaku—"

Shiraishi cut him off with a raise of a hand, face suddenly stern. "We're not going to talk about that until the meeting, okay? Even here, it's not always safe. There's a reason why the important meetings always take place in the council chamber."

Much of the Sky Dome's outer structure incorporated clear substance like glass or crystal. The very top featured a great transparent dome made entirely of glass panels which gave the place its namesake. Inside the dome was a single great hall which served as the official meeting chamber for the Head Council for its most important businesses. The translucent materials worked into the outer walls ensured sunlight streamed through every part of the building, including the winding staircases and hallways, but the council chamber on top was encased solely in clear glass, leaving the whole chamber brilliantly sunlit during daytime. From distance, the entire structure sparkled like a jeweled rod thrust into the sky.

In the morning sunlight, the bright murals decorating the inner walls of the hallway were bleached white. Akaya squinted at one of the paintings, where a figure stood at the center with hair like crimson flame tumbling over white robes. Next to this figure was a white stone, a stream of scarlet spilling like tears over the pale surface. The figure's face was delicately beautiful, but with perfect androgyny. With the artfully draped robes, it could have been a male or a female.

"Saraphita. The First." Shiraishi was watching him closely. "You probably learned about the First in class, yeah?"

"Er..." Akaya was pretty sure he did, but like with most of the less practical part of his education, the details escaped him. But then again, book-learning had never been his strength. Throughout the years of his traineeship, his strength always lay in the active field work, specifically combat. "Kind of? I can't remember off the top of my head, but..."

Shiraishi looked amused, but made no comment about Akaya's lapse. "According to the legends, Saraphita was the first vampire ever. In the tradition handed down through generations of vampires, it is said that the blood in the stone spoke to Saraphita and thus Saraphita was reborn as a vampire. Ever since, all vampires can trace their lineage to a single source, a single origin, and that is Saraphita."

"Is that supposed to be a woman?" Akaya squinted at the painting. Flowing long hair suggested femininity, but Saraphita's body was curiously featureless under the drapes of the white robes.

"Or a man. It depends on the source, really. As the First, perhaps it doesn't matter, since vampires don't reproduce the human way."

"Oh." The blood flowing from the stone suddenly made sense. It was _the_ Source, the mystical substance that changed Saraphita into the first vampire. Tearing his eyes away from the mural, Akaya forced himself to move on, but had to stop soon after. "And this?"

Shiraishi stopped and turned, studying the panel of mural Akaya was pointing to. Three tall armored figures, each as beautiful as Botticelli's Graces, stood over the kneeling figure of Saraphita. One drove his spear through Saraphita's heart, another had arrow loosed into the same spot, and the last raised a sword over her head, about to strike. "Nephilim. The sons and daughters of angels, if we go by the tradition. Our ancestors. Saraphita sired many vampires, and those in turn sired their own offspring, their children. To curb the unchecked explosion of vampire population, the Nephilim fought and destroyed the First after a long and brutal battle, although not without horrific losses. Shortly after, the Nephilim died out. But enough of their descendants had survived, to eventually form the first order of vampire hunters. That was three thousand years ago."

"But that didn't get rid of the vampires. Killing the First, I mean." That part of the tale had always bothered Akaya. All that loss, and for what? "It achieved nothing in the end."

"Not exactly," Shiraishi answered with patience. "The purer a vampire's blood, the stronger he is. Undiluted blood holds great power. By eliminating the First, the entirety of the vampire population was weakened, because ever after the new vampires could only be made from the lesser vampires."

"We should have just gotten rid of all the rest."

Shiraishi's laugh was soundless and short. "We couldn't have, though. Vampires aren't that easy to kill."

"If we never agreed to the pact, if we'd struck hard when they were weak—"

"Kirihara-kun." Shiraishi's voice was calm, but brooked no argument, no protest. "While your dedication is admirable, never forget: vampires were humans once."

Akaya made an impatient sound. "Not after they started feeding on other humans."

Usually, it was about this time that Sanada lost his patience and sent him scurrying away with a sharp rebuke or a cuff. However, Shiraishi didn't become angry. His brown eyes remained calm and ageless, and perfectly still. "Nothing is ever so black and white. To many in this world, choice is but a luxury afforded to select few. None of us can claim to have seen the depths of every mind, every soul. It isn't for us to judge what we do not know."

The view was strange, to say the least, coming from a commander of a hunter order, especially one as old and well-respected as Shitenhouji. But against the calm certainty it was more difficult to muster defensiveness than had Shiraishi reacted with anger. Akaya frowned but held his peace, remembering that while Shiraishi wasn't his commander, he nonetheless held seniority. "If you say so."

Unexpectedly Shiraishi smiled. "Let me finish showing you around. Then you can case the meeting room for later."

"Yeah, okay." There it was again: a pull when he expected a push, and a lull when he expected a fight. Enough to throw him off balance, anyway. Akaya couldn't help stealing curious glances at Shiraishi while they walked together. There were many murals decorating the hallways of the Sky Dome, and Akaya found the vaguely-remembered history of vampires and hunters suddenly make a visceral sort of sense. Perhaps it was the jarring contrast of the murals' beauty and their graphic depiction of a bloody and brutal history. Shiraishi was ready with explanation whenever he asked, and Akaya found himself absorbed despite himself. He'd never been much for art, but there was a disturbingly moving quality to these murals.

As they walked through the hallway, the murals told the story of how Nephilim died out, and the hunters, diminished in strength, were locked in bitter blood-feud with the vampires hell-bent on avenging their First. Vampires grew in number and strength over centuries, but so did the hunters. The hunters congregated into orders, then to a confederacy of orders commanded by a single Grand Master. The last Grand Master stood stern and commanding on a field strewn with bodies, his sword of triple cross drawn and held aloft. Eventually, the last Grand Master had been slain by the vampires at the conclusion of one of the bloodiest battles between the hunters and the vampires in history. Ever since, the seat of the Grand Master remained empty, the sword with triple cross bereft of a master. More bloody and grueling battles. Then finally, a council of hunters and vampires, presided by a lovely woman with soft brown hair cut just below her ears, with a mysterious smile on her lips.

"Is that...?"

"Fuji Yoshiko, the Last Heir."

Everyone had heard about her, of course. The last of the Heirs, or the first generation of vampires sired directly by the First. She'd taken the name of Fuji Yoshiko after she took a consort and settled in Japan. She was the last childe Saraphita sired before the Nephilim destroyed hir, and the last Heir remaining after three millennia of continued blood-feud. For so long she had remained hidden in shadows and secrets. Surprise had rippled through the ranks of both vampires and hunters alike when three hundred years ago, the Last Heir openly revealed herself. But her bold move was also a skillful one: the hunters could scarcely dare target the Last Heir without sparking a new and even bloodier chapter of their war than ever before. And her next move, which came not a decade after, caused even more shock. Under her leadership, for the first time since the time of the Black Death, there was a joint council of vampires and hunters. It took over half a century, but Fuji Yoshiko guided the two sides to an uneasy truce. And while she lived the pact of non-aggression held, tenuous though it was, between the two kinds.

The murals stopped there, but Akaya knew – as any hunter out of traineeship knew – what happened next. Fuji Yoshiko would be found murdered – bled to a husk; one of the few ways to kill a vampire, and perhaps the cruelest – along with her consort Yuusuke and her daughter, Yumiko. One of the odd quirks the Last Heir had was that in her long years she sired no children save for three. Over a century after she took a consort in Japan, and a truce established between the vampires and hunters, only then did she sire her three children, who were full-blood siblings in life. By then all other Heirs were destroyed and their second-generation children spent. To vampires, who attached an overweening importance to the purity of vampiric blood, the Last Heir and her children were the closest thing they had to royalty, revered and adored. The Fujis' murder would have – and by all rights should have – started the final Armageddon between the vampire-kind and the hunters.

"Why didn't they try to kill us all when Fuji Yoshiko died?" Akaya wondered aloud, and blinked to hear himself. Shiraishi, however, did not look surprised. "Hell, it might have been better. It'd have been an end, one way or another."

Shiraishi's eyes took on the stillness and blankness of a mirror, and Akaya shifted self-consciously, wondering if he'd been too free with his opinions, as his seniors in Rikkai always said. Finally, Shiraishi spoke, unsmiling, devoid of emotions. "For one so young, you speak of the end so easily."

"We would've won," countered Akaya hotly. "Or do you really think the peace could have lasted anyway? Vampires and humans—"

"—Cannot coexist, any more than wolves and sheep can, enclosed together in the same pen of this world." A hint of weariness touched the brown eyes. Akaya, startled to hear the familiar words in an unfamiliar voice, said nothing. "Go on inside, Kirihara-kun. You should scope the place before everyone arrives." Akaya blinked, realizing they were indeed at the top of the Sky Dome, in front of the transparent doors of the council chamber. Before he could answer, Shiraishi turned. "Just follow the murals, and you'll come straight down. If you need help, just call. You have the transceiver, yes?"

"Um. Yes."

Shiraishi was already rounding the corner when his answer drifted back. "Take your time, then."

Left behind, Akaya stared after the direction Shiraishi disappeared, feeling like he'd unwittingly stepped on a landmine. With a mental shrug, he dismissed it, and pushed open the crystal doors.


	2. Chapter 2

[Conceived 5/15/2013 :: Finished 12/31/2013]

Modern supernatural/vampire/hunter AU. M/R rating for adult content. Drama, romance, and way too much politics and social issues for a vampire/hunter AU. Born May 15, 2013, finished December 31, 2013, the story is at 57K words at this time (subject to revision). Chapter lengths and pace will vary, as the entire work was written undivided.

_Bloodstone:_ a greenish variety of chalcedony with small blood-like spots of red jasper scattered through it. Also called _heliotrope_.

* * *

_**Bloodstone**_

by _Shiraume_

[5/15/2014 – Happy one-year anniversary, _**Bloodstone**!_]

_**Chapter 2**_

"The hunters' Head Council convened at the Sky Dome earlier today."

Oishi's grave announcement was met only with silence. The only sound to be heard was the soft scratch of pen on paper. "Exactly as expected," Inui remarked, his hand never pausing. "And their topic—just as data predicted, no doubt."

Tezuka, staring at the oversized fish tank with his back to them, said nothing.

"Not in details, not yet, but yes. We have spies in hunter orders just as hunters have in our clans. They must know that we have another fourth-generation at Seigaku. That puts our clan in a unique position." Oishi sighed. "So much for secrecy."

Inui shrugged. "It's Samurai Nanjirou. When has he ever been known for subtlety?"

"He'd understood the value of discretion before," Oishi countered. "He may very well be the last third-generation we have left. If he'd kept his consort and son a secret all this time, just as easily he could have kept them secret longer. He's thrust us in a very awkward position."

Inui looked up, an eyebrow lifted. "On the contrary. I expect he did all this very deliberately. Now that he made Echizen publicly known as his childe, Seigaku has no choice but to accept him. Ryuuzaki-sensei will demand nothing less."

Technically, Tezuka was the head of the Seigaku clan. However, Ryuuzaki Sumire, as the oldest vampire in the clan, had long been the mentor and caretaker of the whole clan, and held a near-absolute sway over its members. Despite her usual pragmatism, she was also intensely attached to her clan, and would never have thought twice about accepting Echizen Nanjirou's son.

"Have you seen him?" Oishi's question was directed to both Inui and Tezuka. Tezuka said nothing, but Inui shook his head.

"Only Momo has, to date. He reports Echizen Junior is certainly...something."

"And Momo is rarely wrong," Oishi concluded, a frown marring his smooth brow.

"If you're that worried, Oishi, you still have the option of contesting his joining at the presentation," Inui reminded him. By ancient laws going back to the very first generation of vampires, a newly-made vampire had to be presented to the rest of the clan for approval. Ideally, a childe would only be made with prior consent from the rest of the clan. But either case the new vampire fledgling had to be presented and accepted by the clan in a formal presentation ceremony. If anyone contested a fledgling's right to join the clan, at least three members of the clan aside from the sire had to speak on the fledgling's behalf. Once accepted, the fledgling would be given absolute protection by the entire clan until he or she came of age, in vampire-reckoning. No matter what the circumstances, save in self-defense, killing an accepted fledgling was an offense punishable by death. But if a fledgling's acceptance into the clan was successfully contested, then no protection would be granted, and no one would be held responsible if the fledgling were to be harmed, even murdered. Inui knew the gentle Oishi would not resort to such an extreme method. Luckily for the Echizen fledgling, too; from what Momoshiro said, the youngster had all of his sire's cockiness _and_ penchant for annoying others, if not more. While greater purity of blood typically granted a vampire greater power, Echizen Ryoma was very young, and it would take decades, if not centuries, before his powers matured. In the meantime, fourth-generation or not, the fledgling was as vulnerable as a lion's cub living in a den of grown wolves.

Oishi pursed his lips as he frowned. "I couldn't. Samurai Nanjirou is one of Seigaku clan's founding members. His childe is one of our own." He sighed. "It's just...no other clan holds more than one fourth-generation, fledgling or no. Some hold only fifth-generation or lesser. This is an imbalance of power, as far as others are concerned. Not just hunters, but other clans as well. Why did the Samurai make this childe, anyway? And after all these years, too."

"According to my sources, because his consort asked." Inui picked up and flipped open another thick notebook, leafing through the pages. "Echizen Rinko, sire unknown. She had a mortal son she watched over even after she was turned. A few years after her turning, she became Samurai Nanjirou's consort. She requested that her son be made an immortal. He honored her request. That was four years ago."

Oishi's frown deepened. "Even if she didn't, he must have known the consequences of siring a childe directly. Why didn't he ask someone else? He has sired so few in his lifetime. Why this one?"

"Perhaps he was special even as mortal." Inui paused over a page. "The boy was an extraordinarily gifted athlete. A tennis player. While traveling he contracted a disease – unspecified – that nearly killed him. Presumably his mother requested that he be turned because he would have died otherwise."

Oishi's frown eased at the last. "That's understandable, I guess. I still don't see why Samurai Nanjirou felt the need to turn him personally, mind you. It's causing us a great deal of trouble, and..." Oishi hesitated, glancing over to Tezuka, who never once so much as turned his head. "There's the other...unexplained incident that we never could account for. And other clans are clamoring for young Echizen's relocation. They don't quite feel..."

Oishi trailed off, and Inui knew what he did not dare say before Tezuka.

Fuji Yoshiko, the Last Heir, and her family, despite having no actual clan ties, had chosen to stay with Seigaku clan after the fragile truce was forged with the hunters. Consequently, the Fuji family had been living under Seigaku protection when she and her family were murdered. Several vampire clans had accused Seigaku of negligence or worse in the aftermath. Grounded in fact or not, a charge of treason might have very easily become a death sentence for the entire clan. To harbor a newly-turned fourth-generation and then fail to protect him might finish their clan this time.

"Anyway, maybe it'll be better if Echizen stays with Hyoutei clan instead? They do have a lot more members, and I don't think Atobe would say no." Oishi's proposal was sound.

Inui tapped the notebook to his own shoulder. "Hyoutei can pull more clan members from the UK or Europe, easily. But another fourth-generation within the ranks may not be something Atobe would tolerate easily. Especially if what Momoshiro says is true."

Their discussion was interrupted by a series of quick raps on the door.

"Come in," Tezuka called, turning to face the door, and the door opened right away.

"Sorry about the intrusion," Momoshiro panted, looking like he'd been running. "I just thought – well, you might want to know – damn. Uh."

Before he could continue, someone else pushed past him unceremoniously, and stood at attention. "Echizen's gone," Kaidoh reported shortly.

"Gone?" Oishi echoed. "What do you mean, gone?"

"You two were supposed to be keeping an eye on him." Inui frowned at both of them. Momoshiro fidgeted, but gave him an uneasy grin. Kaidoh didn't meet his eyes. "How long?" Inui demanded.

Tezuka had turned and was now looking at them expressionlessly, neither anger nor disapproval on his face, but that only seemed to increase the pair's discomfort. "Erm...at least an hour," Momoshiro finally said, cringing a little.

Oishi's palm met his forehead. "An hour?! And you didn't even notice?"

Momoshiro had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, Oishi-senpai. He keeps to himself a lot, so it took us a while to notice he'd snuck out and... Eiji-senpai and Taka-san already went after him. We wanted to let you know before we leave."

"Go." Tezuka's voice was calm but cold. "Find him and bring him back before dawn."

Momoshiro and Kaidoh both straightened out of sheer spinal reflex, then both bowed crisply and left.

"Well." Inui couldn't help an amused drawl. "Perhaps this will spare us the headache, should they fail to retrieve young Echizen before dawn."

"Inui!" Oishi's hand dropped from his forehead, which was now drawn together in a frown. "Echizen's only a fledgling! How can you say something like that? Even if he's not formally a part of our clan, his sire is! And Ryuuzaki-sensei will be furious to hear about this!"

Inui's smile was blatantly baiting now. "Oh, knowing her, I think she might be more amused than anything else." Inui knew it wasn't particularly nice to tease his friend like this, but sometimes he really couldn't help himself. Oishi never changed no matter how many years went by.

Oishi shook his head. "Come help me work out a grid. Maybe we can figure out the likeliest places and forward the info to Eiji."

With a short respectful nod to Tezuka, which Tezuka returned, Oishi left, trusting Inui to follow. Left behind, Inui studied Tezuka, whose expressionless face revealed nothing.

"Okinawa's Higa clan and Nagoya's Seitoku clan won't just sit by this time, you know. While you have Fudomine clan's support, that's only one. You might want to visit Atobe in the near future. Even if Hyoutei clan isn't willing to take on Echizen, we should at least cement their support."

"Ah."

Still no change. Inui contented himself planning for the next time, and withdrew. Maybe he could tag along when Tezuka visited Atobe. Visits to Atobe always proved interesting.

* * *

Nightclub was loud, full of people who couldn't dance to save their lives, and reeked of cheap booze, sweat, and God only knew what else. Ryoma scowled, stubbornly keeping his hands away from his sensitive ears, but it was such a temptation, to cover them. Better yet, he could just get out, of course, but it would mean admitting defeat. Or something. Never mind he hadn't needed to hunt for his own food since, well, ever. His mother and annoying old man always took care of that before. There was first time for everything. Or so the dirty old man said.

Ryoma wasn't even sure what made him come to a nightclub of all things. Leftover rebellion, perhaps. For the four years he'd spent with his mother and Nanjirou, he'd been forbidden to come near one because – and here was the part that made him snort – he was underage. Which was stupid, of course. Just because he'd been underage when he was turned, it didn't mean – well, physically it was true he still remained the same age as when he was first turned. But he'd already spent four years as a vampire. He'd have been twenty this year if he'd still been alive. Shouldn't that count?

To add insult to an injury, he'd been carded at the entrance by the bouncer. Good thing his perfectly fake ID was still valid.

Resisting the urge to put his hands over his aching ears, Ryoma scanned the crowd. At this point he just wanted to feed a little and go home. Being at Seigaku's mansion made him claustrophobic and oddly unsettled, and he was relishing the precious few hours of freedom. But being in such an obnoxiously loud place made him wince. Sometimes a vampire's heightened senses really sucked.

"HEY! ARE YOU GOING TO DANCE OR WHAT?"

Ryoma glared in the general direction of the loudmouthed idiot. As if he needed more noise here. And then he had to blink. Again.

The leopard print didn't disappear. Ryoma barely refrained from groaning. Was this kid for real? The boy – because Ryoma didn't know how the hell he got past the bouncer, but there was no way this one even had the word teen in his age, let alone be legal – was wearing awful leopard print tank top that clashed horribly with his red hair, and baggy shorts. Who even wore baggy shorts to a nightclub?

"Go away," Ryoma told him when the glare didn't seem to do the trick.

"IS THIS YOUR FIRST TIME? COME ON, DANCE ALREADY."

Ryoma's eyebrow twitched. Was this supposed to be a come-on? Or was the kid really that oblivious? "Go away," he repeated. Honestly, he should be commended for his amazing patience tonight.

"WHAT?"

Ryoma scowled, then grabbed a napkin and scribbled on it very quickly, then shoved it in the boy's face.

_Go away. You're loud._

The boy, unfortunately for Ryoma, was completely unfazed. "OH COME ON, YOU SHOULD LEARN TO HAVE FUN!" The boy then grabbed the glass of water Ryoma had been nursing and drained it in one big gulp. "BLEARGH. WATER AT A NIGHTCLUB? HOW OLD ARE YOU?"

Ryoma had a hand over the boy's mouth before he could think better of it. The boy blinked, and Ryoma cursed under his breath; out of reflex he'd moved faster than human eyes. While the boy didn't seem like the most perceptive type, the unnatural coolness of his skin might still give him away.

Ryoma leaned forward and spoke just loudly enough to be heard. "Stop shouting. You're loud." He leaned back, taking his hand away quickly, hoping the contact was too brief for the redhead to notice anything amiss.

The boy blinked, then grinned. "Oh. Sorry. Hey, what's your name? Mine's Kintarou. Tooyama Kintarou."

More like Tarzan, what with the loud leopard print and all. Ignoring was not working, nor was being blunt. Perhaps he should consider a retreat, but he was here first, damn it, and Ryoma was determined to get himself fed before returning to Seigaku mansion. Besides which, there was something odd about this Tarzan boy. Something cold, brushing against his senses like water lapping at his heels.

"Hey! I said, what's your name?"

"Yamada Tarou," Ryoma muttered, deeply annoyed.

"Really? That's a stupid name. What kind of parents name their kid that?"

With a sigh, Ryoma gave it up as a lost cause and pulled out his wallet to leave tip. Although his mother assured him several times tips weren't necessary here, he'd done it for so long, the habit was automatic.

"Koshi...mae? Your name's Koshimae?"

Ryoma frowned, and belatedly remembered his mother had embroidered the Kanji characters for "Echizen" on his wallet in chunky block print. If he'd been the type to blush, his face would have been scarlet by now. Before the idiot could take another look and figure out the correct reading, he snatched away the wallet and stood.

"Hey Koshimae, stay and dance! You should man up and—"

"Kintarou!"

The second it took for Tooyama to look in the direction of the voice, Ryoma slipped out of sight, disappearing easily into the crowd, then making a beeline to the door. Even in the hubbub of the club he could easily pick out Tooyama's high-pitched voice, protesting.

"—And I gotta de-stress somehow! Besides you never gave Zaizen any grief about coming out to clubs and this is totally not fair!"

"For one, Zaizen was _seventeen_ when he first went to a club _and_ he went with an actual adult. Do I have to ground you or are you coming back right now?"

A horrified yelp. "_Not_ the poison hand!"

Ryoma snickered, but left without looking back, stepping into the cool night air with an appreciative sigh. The oddly unsettled feeling had diminished once he put some distance between himself and Tooyama, but it wasn't gone. And there was still that prickle running down his spine, as if he were being watched, somehow...

"You should be more mindful of your surroundings, Koshimae-san," said an amused voice with a distinct Kansai accent. "Or should I say Echizen-kun?"

Ryoma whirled, startled. He narrowed his eyes at the speaker, then had to adjust his glare upward. Way up. By the time his eyes reached the speaker's face, the angle turned his glare more to an annoyed scowl. "And you are?"

"And a little prudence from you wouldn't hurt, either. So _you're_ Seigaku's new prince."

Just then Ryoma realized what was bothering him about this intruder. "You're a vampire," he said flatly. And judging by the pull he felt, someone with a high pedigree of blood.

"Mm-hmm. Like I said, you ought to be a little more mindful. Other vampires aren't the only problems, especially around here."

One could have mistaken this vampire for a telephone pole, and as if that wasn't enough, he was wearing a pair of geta (seriously, who even wore those anymore? He was running into a lot of weird characters tonight) that made him even taller. Ryoma could feel the beginnings of a crick in his neck staring up at this tall busybody and was in no mood for a lecture. "Your point being?"

"I hear you're a fourth-gen." Remarked the telephone pole casually, bending down so they were on the same eye level. "But you feel...different." A strange expression crossed his eyes, then was gone. Straightening, he grinned at Ryoma. "You should watch where you step. 'Sides, isn't it getting close to your bedtime, little prince?"

"OCHIBIIIIIIIIII!"

For about the thousandth time in the same night, Ryoma winced. Kikumaru wasn't within sight just yet, but the voice was unmistakable.

"Saves me the trouble of having to find you an escort," the tall vampire said dryly. "Get home safely. No doubt I'll catch you again later."

"OCHIBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" Ryoma turned his scowl in the direction of the call for a split second, then blinked, startled to find himself alone in the darkened street. He'd never even seen the other vampire move. The next moment, Kikumaru slammed into him, arms tight enough to choke the breath out of him, if he had any. "What were you thinking? We were so worried about you, Ochibi! And you should have let us know if you wanted to go clubbing, this really isn't a good one and I know all the best ones around here and then some! And then I could have taken you to a karaoke place and—"

"Kikumaru-senpai. Let go."

Momoshiro was next to arrive, followed by Kaidoh and Kawamura.

"Echizen! There you are. We were so worried about you." Kawamura said with a relieved smile. Momoshiro, for his part, was much less ceremonious, and caught Ryoma in a headlock as soon as Kikumaru let go.

"Why you little— Do you have any idea how worried we were when we found you gone? Why didn't you say something? We could have arranged for someone to show you around."

Ryoma shoved at Momoshiro, without much hope of displacing him. "I'm not a little brat."

"Echizen, it's not really safe. Tokyo isn't...well, there are a lot of things we didn't really get to tell you, and I don't think Nanjirou-san or Rinko-san ever..." Kawamura looked around them nervously. "Why don't we go home and then we can talk about it?"

"Oh yeah, Tezuka's gonna be soooooo mad at you. He might make you run laps around the mansion grounds!" Kikumaru chortled, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or make you clean the bathrooms. Or the windows! Or – or – weed the garden!"

"And you're gonna be what, timing me?" Ryoma retorted, finally released from Momoshiro's headlock. That kind of hurt, actually, and his hair was probably a lost cause. It was times like this he regretted leaving his cap behind. Still, he obediently fell in step with the others, still grumbling about Momoshiro and his ridiculous strength.

"You betcha! I even have a stopwatch and everything! Or at least Oishi does, I can borrow it for a night. Ooooh, this is gonna be fuuuuun~"

"Yeah, because for once you're not the one in trouble, Eiji-senpai." Momoshiro ducked, laughing as Kikumaru swiped at him. Ryoma rolled his eyes, but didn't shrug it off when Momoshiro threw a companionable arm around him. He didn't exactly enjoy all this physical contact thing they had going at Seigaku, but it wasn't worth fighting all of them. That was all. Honest.

Besides, maybe Tezuka would actually show an expression if he bothered to get angry about this. Which Ryoma rather doubted; he'd heard stories about just how often Kikumaru, Momoshiro, and Kaidoh (usually dragged out by the other two) snuck out to go clubbing or just wreak merry havoc around the city. Apparently Tezuka just shrugged and assigned them laps around the mansion grounds or something. Ryoma tried to picture Tezuka as a mortal child he must once had been, and failed. All he could conjure up was an image of a toddler with the adult Tezuka's completely deadpan face, and that was plain disturbing.

Ryoma shook his head and walked faster. Behind him, Ryoma could hear Momoshiro and Kaidoh arguing, something about the frequency of punishment assignments, which he tuned out. Kikumaru was still talking loudly to no one in particular, listing all the great hangout spots in no particular order. Kawamura still occasionally looked around, making sure they weren't being followed. Oddly, Ryoma was pretty sure they wouldn't be, tonight. Still...

_You should watch where you step._

His foot slipped the next moment. Even without a vampire's preternatural grace he would never have stumbled, not with his inborn coordination. But his momentary distraction hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Echizen?" Momoshiro called.

"Slipped on a pebble," he replied absently. "I'm tired."

"And hungry, I bet." Kawamura gave him a friendly smile. "I'll call to arrange for something."

Part of him wanted to protest that he wasn't a child, he could take care of himself. But his stomach grumbled, and the words died in his throat. "Thanks," he mumbled instead.

"Alright! Let's go back already! I still gotta kick Momo's ass in _Mario Kart 7!_"

"Wanna bet, Eiji-senpai?"

"You're on, junior!"

Ryoma shook his head at the amazing display of childishness, but couldn't help the tug at the corner of his mouth. Earlier moment of unease forgotten, he followed the others home.


End file.
